Can't Find My Way Back Home
by NCCJFAN
Summary: Due to some ummm....issues with the way this season is going...I've made up my own ending to season five. Enjoy!
1. It All Comes Down to Your Body

**At this point, I am probably just as frustrated as nearly every other Woody/Jordan worshipper out there. What do you mean, "I don't want to be the rebound guy?" JD was the rebound guy from you, Woody. "Too soon?" What? After four years, NOW it's too soon? **

**Guys from Wisconsin must not be the brightest crayon in the box. In the great Crayolas of life, I'll bet good money they're the white ones in the box…they have to be there, but you don't really know why….**

**So….**

**To get out my frustrations, I have made my own ending to season five. I've taken various spoilers, mixed them with my own ideas, added a pinch of sex and passion, and of course, topped it off with my own fluffy ending. Guy gets girl…girl gets…well….you'll see.**

**And, despite repeated whining to Tim, I still don't own CJ. If he gets too busy with his new series, Heroes, I'll be glad to take them off his hands.**

**Can't Find My Way Back Home**

**Chapter One**

**It All Comes Down to Your Body**

Life had become a series of cheap hotel rooms and no-tell motels that ran on a cash-basis only. Anonymous. Impersonal. Cold.

Just what she needed.

Jordan carefully looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror of yet one more room of one more similar establishment. She was tired, and her face showed it. Tiny lines were showing at the corners of her eyes. Dark circles were there, too, giving her a haunted look.

_That's what lack of sleep will do to you…_she grimly told herself as she brushed her teeth and got ready for work. _Lack of sleep…long hours…too much cigarette smoke…and not enough to eat._ She rinsed out her toothbrush and put it back in her overnight bag…a bag that contained wigs and different colored contacts, as well as five or six changes of clothes.

After spending years in Boston, putting down roots in a place she had grown to love, Jordan never thought she would find herself on the run again. But she was. And this time it wasn't by choice.

It was the results of a case.

She inwardly shuttered when she thought about it. It had started out like a typical set of circumstances…your basic murder and the resulting mayhem. Woody and Lu had been the answering detectives. She had been the responding ME. But when the body found floating in the CharlesRiver turned out to be the wife of a prominent Boston Red Sox baseball player, the case had become anything but routine.

First it looked like a run-of-the-mill suicide. But Jordan had ruled that out. The woman's neck was broken but the angle that it snapped at wasn't conducive to a self-inflicted jump or fall. And the deeper Woody and Lu dug after that conclusion, the more the case became like a Gordian knot. Countless loops that never seemed to end. The wife was involved with a gambling ring that tried to throw games.

Then the simple crimes of gambling and game-rigging grew uglier. Extortion. Blackmail.

Murder.

And what was worse were names of the people that were involved in the series of events. The list grew longer and more prominent with each day. The roster of suspects soon outgrew Boston and was circling larger cities.

Most specifically Washington, DC.

Woody and Lu were trying to work with the police in the capital to gain access to any information they had, but were having no luck. The DC police were closed-mouthed about anything they knew and were unwilling to share.

Fortunately, Jordan had an inside source into DC information: JD Pollack.

JD had been in DC working as a stringer for several of the local newspapers. He had been there long enough to garner some valuable sources. And since he had left Boston for DC, he and Jordan had kept in distant touch. An occasional phone call or e-mail. Light…nothing serious. He never asked her to come to DC.

She never asked him to return to Boston.

It had been an unwritten and unspoken "rule" in their new relationship – Don't ask. I won't tell. Don't question anything that happened between us.

And JD had. He had gone to DC and started a new life for himself, getting over Jordan and her infidelity with Woody.

For Jordan, it hadn't been that simple. Woody pushed her away yet again, then turned tail and ran straight into the arms of Tallulah Simmons. First Jordan had heard the rumors, and nearly discounted them. But when she caught them together one night in the parking deck, her worst fears came true. She had watched from behind one of the pillars as Woody walked Lu to her car and then caught the blonde in a passionate lip-lock before promising her that he would stop by her apartment later to tuck her in.

Jordan had remained hidden behind the concrete column until Woody had gotten into his old Chevelle and drove off into the night. Numbly, she climbed into her El Camino and went back to her apartment.

He hadn't wanted to be her rebound guy. He had wanted to slow things down.

Like an idiot, she had agreed.

Now look where it had gotten her….

But JD had remained somewhat her friend, even if he assumed Jordan and Woody were now the hot item in the Boston crime-fighting network. Jordan had never let JD know he had the wrong assumption.

So when Lu and Woody had run into the roadblock created by the DC police, Jordan hadn't hesitated on picking up the phone and calling JD to pick his brain. "Cavanaugh, you know too much about this," he had whispered tersely on the phone.

"About what?" she replied, playing dumb.

He had taken a deep breath then, she heard it hissing between his teeth. "Look. I'll talk to you, but not on the phone. Not even a landline. I've got to come back to Boston to tie up some loose ends. I'll meet you at your apartment Friday at three. Until then, not a word to anyone. Including your detective boyfriend. Promise?"

Jordan bit her lip to stop herself from telling him that wasn't a problem. "Promise," she choked out.

So she waited until the end of the week until JD was to meet her and tell her what he knew. She got off work early and went back home…only to find her apartment in shambles …

And JD dead on the floor.

The last thing she remembered as she had bent over his body was a hand over her mouth…with something in it that had rendered her unconscious.

The first thing she remembered after coming to, was Woody bending over her and something heavy in her right hand. A gun. Her gun. The one she kept hidden in her dresser and only pulled out on the rare occasions she felt frightened. "Jo…" Woody had asked. "How could you do it? Did he scare you? Did you think he was an intruder?"

"Do what?" she had asked. Her mouth felt dry and arid. Her tongue was thick and she had a hard time making the words come out of her mouth.

"Kill him."

"Kill who?"

"JD."

Events had all run together and blurred after that. She was taken in for questioning. The ballistics report matched the bullet in JD to her gun. She was arrested. Woody had read her her rights. Nigel had made a frantic phone call to her friend Kim, the lawyer. Jordan was arraigned and made bail.

She blindly drove back to her apartment, taking a deep breath as she opened the door. Someone had come in and cleaned up the crime scene…she'd bet any money it was Lily. There was no evidence that JD had been murdered here at all…no blood on the floor, no spatter on the walls, no black fingerprint dust anywhere.

But it had happened. A man that she had an intimate connection with in the past had been killed in her home and everyone thought she did it…either in self-defense or because he was threatening to blackmail her in some way.

Neither was true.

But the fact was the gun that murdered JD was found in her hand and there were only her prints on it. Whoever had actually killed JD had been very thorough. And conniving. It was all being pinned on her very effectively.

That, coupled with the fact that her tox screen had come back clean wasn't helping. She had told Kim that whoever had put their hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming had something in it she inhaled that knocked her out cold—instantly.

The screens Nigel ran showed no trace of any drug in her system.

Kim had the results retested by an independent pathologist.

The results had been the same. No drugs. Of any type.

In sheer desperation, she had done the only thing she knew to do. She threw a few things in a suitcase and grabbed her old address and phone book. Hastily thumbing through it she found the number she was looking for. It was old and faded and other than a stray Christmas card four years ago, Jordan hadn't heard a word from him. She just hoped and prayed he was still in DC. If anyone could help her…prove her innocence…this guy could.

And he still owed her big time from the case they worked on five years ago. She held her breath as his phone rang and he picked up.

"This is Haley….."


	2. Present Circumstances

**Chapter Two**

**Present Circumstances**

"Stay put until I tell you otherwise. I mean it, don't go anywhere," was the only reply Jordan had gotten from Drew Haley after her initial phone call. "I'll be in touch soon. And Jordan…."

"Yeah?"

"For the record and for what it's worth, I don't believe you did it."

"Thanks…." She tried to get out before he hung up, but she was too late. Drew was gone. There was only dial tone hanging in the air between Boston and DC.

It was three days before she heard from him again. And it wasn't a phone call. Depending on how you looked at it, it was either late or early…two a.m. A knock on her door woke Jordan up. And he was the last person on earth she expected to find leaning against her doorway. "Drew?"

"Who were you expecting this hour of the night? The tooth fairy?" Drew said, trying to joke a little with her. But the seriousness in his eyes gave away the direness of the situation. "I need to come in, Jordan."

Wordlessly, she closed the door behind him, watching him as he moved to the middle of the living room. He was older now…and he looked it. There was some gray at his temples and more lines around his eyes, denoting the time they had been apart hadn't been kind to him. He obviously had worked hard at putting his own demons to rest.

She wasn't sure if he had been successful.

But he was still just as tall and as damn handsome as he had been during the Digger case.

"Have you done what I asked?" he said suddenly.

"Stayed put? Yeah. I haven't left my apartment."

"Good." He reached down and picked up a snow globe off her end table. It was one of those cheesy souvenir things she bought last time she had been in Vegas on a case with Danny McCoy. To remember the good times….She watched as he tossed it from hand to hand a few times before he spoke again. "I've checked out what you told me…and ran some leads down on what Pollack seemed to know before he was killed…." Toss. Toss. Toss. "Pollack was on the right track, Jordan."

"And what track was that?"

Toss, toss, toss. "A dangerous one." He sat the globe back down firmly. "And that's why you've got to leave. Tonight. Now."

"I don't understand…."

"You don't have to. And it's better than you don't. Just trust me on this one, Jordan."

Jordan narrowed her eyes. "Why should I?"

"Hey…you called me, remember?" Drew reminded her softly.

Jordan bit her lip and nodded. "But why do I have to leave here, Drew? I didn't kill JD…I'm innocent. If I run, it'll look like I'm guilty."

"If you run, you'll have a better chance of staying alive, Cavanaugh."

"But….I don't…I mean…."

"It's like this, Jordan," Drew said, coming over to her and running his hands down her arms. "Whoever killed Pollack _thinks_ that he told you what he knew before he was murdered. They killed him and tried to frame you…thinking that would at least shut you up…no one would believe you…you'd be called crazy or whatever….and then all the extortion and blackmail going along in this little story could continue to play out."

"But why didn't they just kill me along with JD?"

"I haven't been able to put that story together yet. But one thing for sure…with the list of people involved with this, if the powers that are behind this sense that the Boston PD believes you…that you didn't kill Pollack, you will be eliminated."

"Why don't you just tell the police what you know?"

Drew shook his head. "The police don't respond to hunches and right now that's all I'm working on -- hunches…good hunches, but they're just that…hunches. And if you run, go where I tell you to, do what I tell you to do, I can keep you safe until I can solidify everything. Plus, there will be an added bonus," he said, blowing out a sigh.

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "And that would be?"

"You'd be declared a fugitive."

The other eyebrow matched its mate at her hairline. "And this is good, how? I can be shot and killed on sight?"

Drew grinned, a slight, sarcastic grin that Jordan recognized could only come from someone else who had played the system to their own benefit and won. "No…it'll keep the situation in the public eye. The Boston PD will have to look for you…or it'll be egg on their faces. It'll keep the case alive. They'll look for you, but they'll also have to chase down any other leads.

"And that will be where I come in. As I find more evidence, I'll feed it to the Boston PD. Give me a few months, and your name will be cleared," Drew promised. "But if you stay here…and the case just festers around you, you're dead meat, Cavanaugh. Police can become notoriously lazy and self-satisfied when it looks like the case is solved, even when their suspect is so obviously wrong."

Jordan swallowed hard. "It's just for a few months, right?"

Drew nodded. "As best I can see."

"And then I can come back."

"If that's what you want."

She blew out a sigh and fastened her robe more tightly around her. "So what do I need to do?"

Pack. Just a few things, had been his answer. Drew had another agent, an agent that could have passed for Jordan's twin sister, stay in the apartment for a few days after they had fled Boston to throw the police off. By the time Walcott and the Boston PD realized that the agent was a decoy, Jordan had been out of Boston five days.

Since then her life had become a series of small towns, cheap hotel rooms, bartending jobs, colored contacts, and throw away cell phones. Drew had given her enough fake ids to make a dozen illegal aliens happy. One month she had been Debbie. The next, Amy. She had to look at the id's every morning to remember what color of contact to put in and what wig to put on.

Wigs. She had grown to hate them but couldn't bring herself to cut her hair. Woody had run his fingers through those long chestnut tresses as he undressed her at the Lucy Carver Inn that night so long ago. Then he had wound it around one hand, anchoring her to the bed and him when he made love to her.

It was the only tangible thing she had left of that night….of their relationship … and she'd be damned if her hair would be cut. For a while she had prayed for a positive pregnancy test and had been bitterly disappointed when she didn't even need to run one. There would be no baby between them. Only memories. Jordan grimaced bitterly. Under the present circumstances…it was probably best.

But the worst circumstance was knowing everyone in Boston now thought she was guilty. She had left to avoid prosecution. Knowing that sometimes made her days unbearably difficult.

However, Drew said to keep the faith….in the case and in him. "Don't worry," Haley said about three months into his investigation. "It's coming along…but I need to know who in the Boston PD to start feeding the evidence to….from what I hear, everyone, except Macy, Bug, Lily and Nigel think you did it. Is there anyone in the Boston PD you trust for me to talk to?

Jordan had swallowed hard. There was no need to go through the list. Despite everything….there was only one person she still trusted with her life that was a homicide detective with the Boston PD. As a matter of fact, he remained listed as her next of kin. "Hoyt," she replied softly. "Detective Woody Hoyt."


	3. Haley V Hoyt

**Chapter Three**

**Haley V. Hoyt**

Woody looked owlishly at the clock beside the bed. Three a.m. Who in the hell would be ringing his apartment phone at three in the morning? He wasn't on call…There was only one person Woody knew that used to call him at all hours, but he hadn't heard from Jordan in months.

Despite the fact that he had secretly hoped that at some point while she was on the run, she would stop, phone him, and let him know how she was doing.

He wouldn't have asked where she was at.

Moving carefully so he wouldn't wake Lu, he picked up the receiver. "Hoyt," he whispered into the phone, keeping an eye on the sleeping woman beside him, praying he wouldn't wake her up.

"Woody Hoyt?" a masculine voice replied.

"Yeah?" Woody sat up in bed. He guessed subconsciously he had been assuming it would be Jordan. The male voice made him sit up and rub his eyes. "That would be me." He eased out of bed to carry the phone into the living room to talk, keeping one eye on Lu so he wouldn't wake her. The blonde just rolled over and snuggled down into a deeper sleep on her side of the bed.

"You don't know me…" the voice continued.

_Oh great…some crack head calling me about Cal…_Woody thought.

"But we have a mutual friend."

_Okay, I'll bite…_ "Who?"

"Jordan Cavanaugh."

Now fully awake, Woody asked gruffly, "What about her?" He was in no mood for prank calls.

Haley let out a soft, nearly indiscernible chuckle from his end of the conversation, as he heard the detective's words come out in a harsh rush. Jordan hadn't told him much about Hoyt, other than he was the only person in her life she felt she could trust to do the right thing, even if Woody wasn't so sure that she didn't kill Pollack. The FBI profiler did remember Hoyt circling on the outer edges of the Boston PD when he and Jordan had worked on the Digger case together, but Hoyt hadn't played an active role. Drew just remembered him being at the morgue. He wasn't sure if at the time Jordan would have even given Hoyt the time of day.

Obviously things had changed during the five years Drew hadn't seen Cavanaugh. The fact that Jordan had gone from not trusting anyone, to believing that Hoyt would do the right thing regardless of his feelings toward her, proved to Haley that Jordan had matured.

And Hoyt must be a pretty outstanding guy. At least as far as Jordan believed.

Drew had to know it for himself. "Hoyt, she's not with me, if that's what you're thinking, but she is somewhere safe. And she's fine. At least for the moment. But I need to talk to you about her."

"Sure. Shoot."

Haley chuckled again. "No way. Not on the phone. Meet me behind the BoSox stadium…in that little all-night dinner at midnight tomorrow."

Woody gathered his scattered wits about him. "I'm supposed to meet you at midnight to talk about Jordan Cavanaugh. Yeah, right…whoever you are." Disbelief laced his voice as Woody debated on whether or not to hang up on this pervert.

"Don't hang up," the voice said. _Great. Now this guy's a freakin' mind reader…_Woody thought. "I've got information on Pollack's murder, too," the voice continued.

"Who are you, the damn CIA or something?"

_If he only knew…_ Drew thought, biting back another chuckle. _Where did Jordan find this guy? _"Ummm, no."

Woody narrowed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Then how do I know you're ligit? That you know Jordan and you know about Pollack's murder?"

"How do you know you're not being played?" Haley asked. "It's like this, Hoyt. I know how Pollack got involved with the gambling case in the first place. A source he had in Boston when he was working as a stringer for the _Globe_ initially fed him information about the case…enough information to make Pollack and his editors begin to take a serious look at some senators from New England, a few well-respected baseball coaches, and several players that seemed to be getting injured more than they normally should…."

Woody swallowed hard. Those facts had not been released to the general press yet. As was the custom with many police cases, some vital information had been held back from the public, so that when a suspect surfaced, they could test his knowledge about the case with that information. If there was a response, it was obvious that the suspect could be the real perpetrator or someone close to him.

This guy had too much information to be jerking his chain and Woody knew it. A cold chill ran down his back. "Is Jordan okay?" he suddenly asked, for the first time fearing for her safety in this conversation.

"Jordan's fine, Woody…and for what it's worth, I know the real reason Jordan's now claustrophobic, too."

This guy did know Jordan. Very few people knew Jordan's fear about small, enclosed spaces. As a matter of fact there were really only three people that were aware of her claustrophobia that Woody knew of. Garret and Nigel were the other two. He was the third.

Pushing aside the thousands of warning alarms that were going off in his head, Woody took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay. I'll meet you tomorrow night at midnight in the diner."

"Good."

"Just one thing. How do I know it's you? What do you look like?"

Haley chuckled again. "You won't have to know what I look like, Hoyt … because I know what you look like."

Woody felt another cold shiver run down his spine as Drew hung up, leaving only dial tone filling Woody's ear.

* * *

He ordered coffee as he slid into a booth at the Stadium Diner at eleven forty-five. Coffee. Two milks. Six sugars. You can never have enough sugar. Then he perused the menu as he waited out the next fifteen minutes and fought down his nervousness.

He suddenly knew how Bob Woodward felt meeting Deep Throat. Woody tapped the menu on the table's surface, an obvious outward expression of his inward anxiety.

"Hoyt." A male voice caught his attention as a man slipped into the booth across from him.

"Yeah."

"Nice to finally meet you." Drew took a moment to carefully look the young detective over, comparing what Jordan had told him to what he actually saw. A thick shock of unruly hair. A nearly gaunt appearance. And despite the fact that it was obvious he hadn't shaved since early that morning, Hoyt's dimples did give him the choir boy look that Jordan had warned him about. _Don't believe he's all innocence … Hoyt's a tough SOB when he needs to be, _she cautioned.

And that was about all she had told Drew about Woody. When he asked her why she trusted Hoyt so much, Jordan had thought for a minute before she replied. "I've known Woody for five years, Drew. And during those five years, I've learned two things about Woodrow Wilson Hoyt. First, is that he always tries to do the right thing…even if it doesn't win him any popularity contests and even if sometimes he has to go about finding out the truth the hard way, Woody always tries to do what's right. Call it Midwestern values…the altar boy syndrome, whatever. It's just Woody.

"Second, he's always been there for me when I'm in trouble. He's helped me out of more scrapes than I can ever repay him for." She had paused then and lowered her head, her hair hiding her face from Haley. "I just hope he believes that somehow helping me now is the right thing to do…and that I didn't kill Pollack."

His curiosity peaked, Drew had pushed the issue. "So … He's Mr. Midwestern Farm Values. Doesn't sound your type, Cavanaugh. How'd you two hook up?"

She had smile then…a tight, sad smile that nearly made Haley's heart ache for her. "We didn't. Not really."

Haley had raised one eyebrow in disbelief.

"No…honest we didn't."

"So you two were just friends?"

_Friends…enemies…friends again…then lovers. Then….then…_ "I guess the best way you could term our relationship is that I'm his 'ex-almost-something'," she finished with a wry grin on her face.

But the tears in her eyes told Haley her true feelings.

_Damn Hoyt._ Haley had thought then. _A woman like that and he doesn't have the balls to step up to the plate and take her? What kind of guy is this Wisconsin cheese head?_

As a result, Haley had gone to meet Woody with dim respect and very few expectations. The fact that Jordan trusted Woody gave him some merit in Haley's eyes.

But the fact that this Boston detective had probably broken her heart made every protective instinct in Haley sit up and growl.

"Haley. Drew Haley." He extended his hand to Woody across the table.

* * *

Six cups of coffee later, Woody leaned back in the booth. This Haley guy knew the case…backwards, forwards and sideways.

Of course, Haley being FBI accounted for a lot of his knowledge. Woody had nearly audibly gasped when Drew presented his badge for Woody to inspect. Jordan had generally always steered clear of the feebees. Like most folks in the morgue and the police department, she had a deep-seated mistrust of Central Casting.

But obviously this wariness didn't pertain to Haley.

_So what made this guy so special?_ Woody tried to figure that out as he listened to Haley explain Pollack's research into the gambling and extortion ring. Haley knew what he was talking about.

But what about Jordan? Other than the fact that Drew reiterated the fact that he was sure Jordan was being framed for Pollack's murder, her name hadn't been brought up since. But Woody remedied that quickly. "I know what you're saying, Drew," Woody closed his eyes as he remembered all the times that he, Lu, and Santana had played out different scenarios of Pollack being shot and Jordan being framed during the three months she had been gone. "Believe me…as you feed me information, it will be checked out. Thoroughly. I…several of us…don't believe that Jordan killed Pollack. We want her cleared of the charges.

"However," Woody blew out a deep sigh. "She is a fugitive, Haley. That means she's wanted and can be shot on sight. She needs to come home, turn herself in so she can be placed somewhere safe, and let us work the case from there."

"No." Haley said the word with such force that Woody narrowed his eyes at the profiler and gave him a hard look. "If she comes home…I can't be guaranteed that your DA and the police department won't keep looking for the real killer….that Jordan won't end up in some jail cell, rotting, while she waits for the truth to come out. As long as she's a fugitive and on the run, the Boston PD will have to work the case."

"But she could be hurt…or worse," Woody countered.

"Jordan's fine. I've made sure of it," Haley grabbed his coat and threw down some money on the table to pay for his coffee.

"Are you positive?" Woody asked.

"She's fine, Hoyt. Why?"

Woody lowered his eyes. "I just….worry."

"No need. I've got her … covered." Haley stood then, well aware that the detective was rankled by his choice of words. "I'll give you another call when I have more information on Pollack." He turned to go.

"Hey, Haley," Woody called out to stop him. He still had one more burning question.

"What?"

"How do you know Jordan?"

The profiler turned and sat back down at the booth. "When did you come to Boston, Hoyt?"

"Five years ago this June."

Drew nodded. "Go directly into homicide?"

"Yeah."

Drew drummed his fingers on the table top a minute. "Do you remember the Digger case?"

Thinking quickly, Woody nodded. "Perp drugged and buried his victims alive…there were several bodies found up and down the east coast. He was a serial killer." Woody looked at Drew wondering what this had to do with Jordan.

"His last two victims were in Boston. By that time the Feds had been called in. I was in Boston on the case," Drew continued. "And Jordan was working the local end as the ME. I ended up using her on the federal case."

_Two victims in Boston?_ There had been a morose obsession with all the homicide detectives on the Digger case. To murder was one thing. To bury your victims alive was another. But as well as Woody could recollect, there was only one Boston victim. Maybe this was Haley's weird way of testing him. "Drew, there was on one vic in Boston."

Drew stood again, looking Woody in the eyes. "No. There were two. Chloe died. Jordan didn't."

Woody felt the air being sucked out of the room. _Jordan…what the hell…_

"And that is why she's so claustrophobic," Drew finished, turning on his heel and walking out of the diner.

_Oh hell…_ Woody thought, struggling to put his thoughts back in order.

All the while wondering just how much more this Drew Haley knew about Jordan … and why Jordan had chosen to trust this Drew Haley with her life…

And not him.


	4. Shaken, not Stirred

**I admit, I haven't been writing a very nice Woody because I am very frustrated with the character right now. The writers are making no sense…and I feel may have botched a wonderful opportunity for the Woodster to grow and mature.**

**Instead, we get…..Woody and Lu? Ick.**

**

* * *

****Chapter Four**

**Shaken, not Stirred**

Jordan sighed as she struggled to open the door to yet another no-name hotel in yet another small town and go inside. The only consistent job she had been allowed to work while on the run was bartending. Haley wasn't letting her anywhere near a morgue…and bartending was the only other work experience she had.

And it was a bitch sometimes. She felt like she was part public relations for the bar when she dealt with cranky customers and part psychologist when she dealt with the crying drunks.

Jordan had earned a whole new respect for Howard Stiles.

She slammed the door and flung her pocketbook on the bed and then herself. _This was only supposed to take a few months_, she thought to herself, shutting her eye. _Just a few damn months for Haley to wrap up loose ends and feed the information to Woody…and then I was supposed to go home._

Instead the case had stalled. Leads hadn't panned out. Woody was deeply involved in another case. It had now been nearly a year since she had left Boston. She rolled over and shut her eyes against the early morning sun streaming through the narrow crack between the curtains.

A year. Almost. For a year she had spent her nights for the most part, bartending and her days sleeping. It was going to take months just to get her internal clock back on track when she was able to return to the morgue and go back to work.

It might take longer for her stop looking over her shoulder all the time to see if she was being followed…either by the same people that had killed Pollack or by the police. At first, that sensation of being _watched_ followed her everywhere. After a month or two, Jordan had learned that her reality was really like Haley had told her…you just think you're being watched, but most likely you're not. It's just the _thought_ of being watched that wears you down.

Drew had been right. She no longer kept a vigilant watch over her shoulder at who might or might not be following her, but she did stay alert.

And it did wear her down. The stress lines around her mouth and eyes were more prominent now than they had been a year ago. She had trouble sleeping and didn't eat like she should.

She simply lived for the day she could return to her Pearle Street apartment, turn on the hot water, and take a long shower – washing the reality of her situation off of her. The constant relocating…the stress…the constant need to stay vigilant. Then she wanted to sleep undisturbed for a week.

Smiling wryly at the difference between her fantasy and the veracity of her situation, Jordan sat up on her bed, flung her blonde wig off and made for the shower in her tiny hotel room. She could dream later. Right now this was her reality and like Drew said, she would have to do whatever it took to keep Pollack's case alive. And if becoming a fugitive was what she had to do, she had no choice.

Even if her reality really, truly sucked right now and all she wanted to do was go home.

* * *

Woody couldn't believe what he was hearing as he listened to Haley.

Once again Haley had called him. "Meet me at the diner." Woody had learned long ago not to ask "why" or "where." Drew never called him unless he had vital information about Pollack's case. And the "where" was always the same. The all-night diner near the BoSox stadium.

"So what you're saying is…" Woody said, making sure he had heard Haley correctly.

"I'm afraid so, detective."

Woody let out a low whistle. "And they call baseball one of the great _American_ pastimes."

Haley grinned wryly. "Yeah. Ain't it a bitch?"

Woody nodded. "So let me make sure I understand correctly. International gambling debts with the Japanese over _baseball_ games?"

Haley nodded. "Games were thrown. And it seemed everybody that's somebody in baseball and New England politics was in on it. Including some players."

"And Pollack got to sniffing to close to the case…" Woody continued

"Then Jordan ruled the baseball player's wife's death a _homicide_ instead of a _suicide._"

"Which they weren't expecting. But once they were able to link Jordan and Pollack together…"

"They killed two birds with one stone. Poor bastard," Drew finished, referring to Pollack. "Not to mention what it's done to Jordan."

Woody's head snapped to attention. This was the first time Haley had mentioned Jordan to Woody on such an insinuated personal level. Other than detailing his and Jordan's history, Drew had not volunteered any information about their present relationship. Woody had accurately drawn the conclusion that Haley wasn't with Jordan all the time, but did check in on her regularly…moving her when needed. Allowing her to work to keep herself sane.

Woody didn't want to think about what else Drew may have done to keep her comfortable during the year she had been on the run. "What has it done to Jordan?" he asked. "Is she okay? Is anything wrong?"

Drew shrugged. "She's been on the run for a whole year, Hoyt. That's not easy on anyone, but I think it's especially hard on someone like Jordan who just desperately wants her life to return to normal."

"But she's okay?"

The profiler's eyes narrowed. "She's lost some weight and some sleep…" and then Drew stopped. He didn't know how to explain to Woody what being a fugitive did to someone. The underlying tenseness that seeps its way into your soul. The constant feeling that you're being watched. The uprooting and moving on, often in the dead of night and always into a town you've never been at before and with people you've never met, and not knowing who you could trust.

He couldn't explain it to Woody because Drew seriously doubted if the all-American-Boy-Scout-Turned-Detective could even distantly commiserate with Jordan. Jordan had told Drew that Woody was the only person she could trust because Woody would always do the right thing, regardless of how he felt or the circumstances. And Drew had seen enough of the Dudley Doright in the detective to vouch for that.

But as far as the man's empathetic skills went… Drew wasn't so sure about those. So for the present the FBI profiler was content to only reveal the facts of the Pollack case to Woody, and very, very few details about Jordan. When Jordan returned, she was going to need time, support, concern, and care to get her life back to normal. Right now, the woman was wound as tightly as a spring and Drew was nearly scared to think about what would happen when Jordan was finally allowed to uncoil. "But other than that physically she is fine," Drew concluded, getting up and throwing a few bills on the table to cover his coffee.

"Does she know how close we are to solving this case?" Woody asked.

Drew hesitated. "Solving…I'm not so sure about, Detective. But I would say I have given you enough to go on to, at the very least, get Jordan off the hook for Pollack's murder."

"Does she know that?" Woody asked again.

Drew shook his head. "No. I don't want to get her hopes up and then have to disappoint her. She's going through enough as it is. When you can at least get your DA to call the dogs off on Jordan and get her out of from under that damned 'umbrella of suspicion', I'll let her know and bring her home."

Woody nodded and stood. "Give me a few days…."

* * *

In the end it had been nearly too damned simple. A hint or two to Nigel and then the criminalist went to work with all of his legal and illegal computer gimmicks. A few clicks of the mouse and the pressure was off Jordan and onto a foreign contact.

That and the fact that an unknown fingerprint had been raised at Jordan's apartment. Toss in a few hairs from the crime scene that Bug had linked to someone of Asian heritage and add motive. Shake, but don't stir. And Woody found he had poured himself one hell of a martini. One that put the pressure on the Japanese consulate in Boston and made Jordan look like a candidate for sainthood. Walcott called off the search for Jordan, saying the ME was no longer a suspect. After toasting himself one more time with a stale cup of coffee to keep himself awake while he wrapped up the loose ends of the case, Woody dialed Haley's number, thinking to himself it was poetic justice that it was after one in the morning and for once he was waking the profiler up, and not the other way around.

The bottom dropped out of his stomach when Woody wondered what he would do if Jordan answered the call….

"Haley," a clear voice said. _Damn…he wasn't asleep…_

"It's Hoyt. I tied the case up in a pretty bow for Walcott. She just took Jordan out of the umbrella of suspicion. Bring her home."


	5. Not in Kansas Anymore

**Chapter Five**

**Not in Kansas Anymore**

It was Friday night.

One thing Jordan had learned about bartending, even in the smallest of towns, was that everyone wanted to have a good time on the weekend to give themselves something to discuss over the water cooler on Monday morning.

And in small towns, it was usually the local bar that became party central. She had just had the bouncer kick out one more unruly drunk and was desperately fighting off the advances of another inebriated customer when the cell phone hidden in her pocket went off.

Haley. It had to be. He was the only one who had her number. Excusing herself for a moment, Jordan quickly made her way to the ladies' room and into the stall at the back corner. "Drew?" she whispered into the receiver, leaning against the wall.

"How's work?" the profiler asked.

"It's Friday night at a bar in Podunksville, USA. How do you think?" she retorted, in half a whisper, half a hiss.

"That bad?"

"That bad," she affirmed, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. _Damn, I hate wigs…_ "So what's up…is this a 'just had to call and see if you're all right' call or a 'I hate to do this to you but you've got to move again' call?"

"Neither."

"Then what…."

"It's over, Jordan. There's another suspect in Pollack's murder. Walcott said you were no longer a person of interest…"

"But…." She slid down the door of the bathroom stall, her legs giving out as the reality of her situation sunk in.

"It's over," Drew said again, softly. "You're going home."

* * *

It was the longest flight Jordan could ever remember…the flight out of Denver to Logan. Once Haley had called, she immediately quit her job, telling the manager she had a family emergency and needed to get home to Boston. The man responded with a grunt and asked Jordan where he needed to mail her last paycheck. She told him to keep it to make up for the trouble she was causing him by quitting without notice.

From there it had been a quick trip to her hotel room to shower, change clothes, and pack. Then for the first time in a year, Jordan Cavanaugh left her hotel room as _Jordan Cavanaugh_. Long chestnut hair swinging half-way down her back and her whiskey colored eyes unhidden by colored contact lenses.

She would have liked to say that it felt good to be herself again, instead of Amy or Debbie or Stephanie.

But all it really did was spook her out. As long as she could pretend to be someone else, there was that wall of deception she could hide behind.

Only now she was _her_…Jordan Cavanaugh. And the feeling of being hunted magnified when she returned to her real persona. She nervously watched over her shoulder the entire time, only allowing herself to relax a little once she was on the direct flight out of Denver to Boston. Jordan fully expected an air marshal to board the plane at anytime and demand that she go with him to jail.

It was only after the plane got airborne and leveled off did she sigh, curl up in her seat, and sleep. It was a direct flight. It would take several hours to get to Boston. And Haley promised to be there when she arrived. Jordan would need him. Despite the fact that she had been cleared of Pollack's murder, she still had run.

And Jordan wasn't sure what long-term consequences she faced from that.

* * *

It took a minute to sort out the confusion. Even though she had been at Logan more times than she could count, it took her a few seconds to weave her way through the mass of bodies and crying babies, strollers and wheel chairs to get to the luggage claim.

He wasn't there. She didn't see Haley anywhere. Jordan felt her insides quake for an instant. If he wasn't here, then where…and what…

"Thought I'd missed you." His deep voice resonated behind her. "Jordan.."

"Drew…" She turned and Haley caught her up in a hug. "No…you didn't miss me," she said, a little breathless from his embrace. "Obviously…"

"Is that all your luggage?"

Jordan nodded at the two small bags and carry on.

"Damn you travel light," Haley joked.

"That's what being a fugitive does for you," she retorted, willing her voice to be strong, and was surprised when it cracked and tears welled up in her eyes. "Oh God…"

"Hey…it's okay," Drew said, softly, hugging her again. "It's over…all over, Jordan."

"I know…it's just…"

Drew ran his hand lightly down her back. "It will get better. I promise. Your life will get back to normal a little at the time. Just be patient."

Jordan nodded and wiped at the tears running down her cheeks. "Yeah…I will." She squared her shoulders and picked up her shoulder bag. "So what do I do now? Go home and wait? Go back to the morgue? See if the Pogue needs a new bartender?"

Drew chuckled. "No. We're on our way to a press conference Renee' Walcott is having. She's going to publicly announce that you're no longer a suspect and then we're going to have a little fun for a change."

"Fun?"

Drew smiled a wickedly self-assured, nearly evil grin. "Walcott has no idea we're coming. She doesn't even know you're back in Boston."

"Drew….is that wise?" Jordan replied, tossing her bag in to the backseat of Haley's car before letting him help her in the passenger side.

"Maybe….maybe not. But it's time for you to get back some of your own, Jordan. Reclaim your life that other people took away. And this is the first step."

* * *

"And with that conclusion, we have notified the Japanese ambassador and the consulate. We expect full cooperation from them on an international level as well as full cooperation from the baseball commissioner. Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh is no longer a suspect in the murder of Mr. JD Pollack," Renee' said, concluding her press conference. "Any questions?" The last comment was directed at the reporters in the room.

Jordan fought back a laugh. As a reporter, JD would have had plenty of questions. And wouldn't have hesitated to ask them, no matter who it embarrassed. Then she drew a quick breath. She wasn't even sure what they did with JD's body. It had still been at the morgue when she left Boston with Drew. She imagined that Lily had found a relative and shipped the body back to Australia. Jordan hung her head for a minute. She hadn't even had time to say goodbye.

"Are you ready?" Drew asked, his arm encircling her waist. "The room's clearing out…but all involved parties are still here. Walcott, the Boston PD, and Kim."

"Kim's here?"

"I thought it would be a good idea to have your attorney here to make sure that all the loose legal ends are tied up good and tight." He smiled down into Jordan's face. A face that still looked pinched and tired from her flight…and entirely too thin. "And after that, you're getting a good, hot meal and a nice, long nap." He nudged her into the room. "Ms. Walcott…" Drew called out to get Renee's attention. "I believe Dr. Cavanaugh has a few questions of her own."

The great sucking sound that followed Drew's statement was all the air being pulled out of the room from the gasps that were audibly heard. Jordan then rightly assumed that other than Drew and Kim, no one knew she was returning to Boston … or at least coming home right then. She scanned the room for response. Walcott was completely white and the police commissioner was equally pale. Attorneys for the Japanese consulate were stunned.

And while looking stunned himself, Woody was grinning at her. Tentatively she smiled back. _It's been a year_, she reminded herself. _Don't let your heart get wrapped around your tongue…he had moved on before you fled Boston. His helping you doesn't mean a thing. Woody's Woody…he always does what's right._ Jordan straightened her back and looked Walcott in the eyes.

"Dr. Cavanaugh. Good to see you back in Boston," Renee' said, motioning for her, Drew, and Kim to come over to the table where she still sat behind a bank of microphones.

"It's good to be back," she replied. Jordan was glad Haley was still with her, his arm still around her waist for support.

"Look, Jordan, I'm sorry for the way things happened….but at the time the evidence pointed to you…you have to see that we did what we had to do…"

"And how long would you have let Jordan be the suspect? If the FBI hadn't got involved, how long would you have continued to let her take the blame for a crime she didn't commit?" Drew asked.

"I'm sure the evidence would have still come to light and Dr. Cavanaugh would have been exonerated, regardless of the FBI's involvement, " Renee' smoothly continued.

"But it took a year. A whole year," Kim rejoined. "A year out of Dr. Cavanaugh's life she can never get back. A year running from a crime she didn't commit and one that required immense personal sacrifice."

Renee' moved from behind the bank of microphones, pulling the trio with her. "So what do you want, Jordan? How can the city of Boston make up its mistake to you?" she asked.

_What do I want? My life back…_ "I ….I…want…"

"I think a year's back pay would be a nice start," Kim butted in, determined to make this as positive a situation as she could for her friend. "And then some fiscal commiseration for the emotional trauma she has been through. That's just the beginning. A public apology and the chance for Jordan to tell her side of the story. And her job back as a medical examiner…with full benefits and an increase in pay."

Renee's sighed and closed her eyes. She imagined much of this would happen as soon as Woody had brought his information about the international gambling ring to her office a week ago. The wagons had circled at the DA's offices… "We only acted on what we knew," had been the mantra.

The fact that Jordan herself showed up at the press conference effectively stifled that. Renee' would be wiping egg off her face for months. The best thing to do was try to at least show the public that the city was going out of its way to make up its past mistakes with a present show of contrition. "Let me talk to the state attorney," she told Kim. "I'll get back to you with a figure by the end of this week."

"Good." Kim flashed her trademark victory smile at Renee' and then hugged Jordan. "It's good to have you home, girl. I've got to get back to the office and wrap a few other loose ends up about you, but I'll be over later with some papers and things for you to look at."

"Thanks," Jordan said, moving out of the circle of Drew's arms to return the hug. One more pat on the back and Kim was gone.

"What do you want to do now?" Drew asked. "Go to the morgue? Get some lunch?"

Jordan shook her head. "I really think I'd like to go home now and take a long, hot shower…"

"We can do that," Drew replied, his arm still around her waist as he steered her towards the door.

"I'd use the back exit, then." A familiar voice came from behind them. "How are you, Jordan?" he asked softly, concern lacing his voice.

"I'm fine…" She turned to him then and Woody got his first opportunity in over a year to carefully look her over. Haley hadn't lied. She was thinner…and her eyes held a haunted look he had never seen before. The stress lines around her mouth and eyes were more pronounced and he noted the dark circles. The time she had spent hiding from the police hadn't been kind to her. "Why? Why the back exit?" she asked.

"Reporters. Word's already out you're back…they're swarming like bees out front."

"Thanks for the info." Drew shook Woody's hand. "If you can show me where the back exit is, we'll take your advice, Hoyt."

"Follow me."

With Jordan between them, the two men walked down the hall and then took the elevator to the basement, stopping at the door. "Thanks for all you're help on the case," Woody said to Drew.

"Not a problem. It's been good working with you, Hoyt."

"Likewise. So I suppose you'll be getting back to Quantico now?"

Drew hesitated, glancing down at the top of Jordan's head. "Eventually. I need to make sure our 'fugitive' is okay and the DA follows through with what she promised her."

"I'll be fine. And quit talking about me like I'm not here…" Jordan retorted, although her voice held none of the old fire that Woody remembered. "Although, I've not thanked you, Woody." She looked Woody in the eyes.

And for a moment, time hung as her brown eyes met his blue ones and so much was said without uttering a word. "Thanks," she finally began. "For everything. For once again putting your neck out for me….for believing that I didn't…"

"It's okay." Woody leaned over and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. "It's just good to have you back."

"And now it will be good to get home, huh, Cavanaugh?" Drew interjected, once again putting his arm around her waist and steering her out of the building and to his car.

"It will…." She replied, getting in the vehicle, her eyes still looking back at Woody standing in the doorway.

It was subtle…the change. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but things had changed between them. Of course it had been a year….but in the past, she had felt they could be separated for months and when back together, pick up exactly where they left off.

_But the changes had started before you left Boston, _she reminded herself as Drew pulled out of the parking deck and into the Boston mid-day traffic. _Lu…_

"Here we are…" Drew said, pulling into the parking lot of her Pearle Street apartment. "There's no place like home, is there, Jordan?"

_No…unless you believe what Tomas Wolfe said…that you can't go home again…_Jordan sighed. "No, there isn't. East or west, home is best…"_ Even if so much has changed you don't recognize it. I'm definitely not in Kansas anymore. I'm not really sure where I'm at any longer…_


	6. Run to Me

**Chapter Six**

**Run to Me**

She had turned down Haley's offer of take out Chinese, but promised him she would eat something. Right now everything in her just longed for a hot shower and her bed. Drew helped her upstairs and brought her scant luggage in.

"I tried to keep it the same way you left it," he said softly, putting her suitcases down near her bedroom.

"You did a good job. Thanks." Jordan returned, slowly circling the room, getting reacquainted with the past and seeing how it all fit in with her future.

"Yeah, well….Are you sure I can't get you anything else before I leave?" he asked one more time….and for the first time that Jordan could remember, Drew looked awkward…one hand in his pocket and the other on the back of his head.

"I'll be fine, Drew." She walked over to him and gently kissed him on the cheek. "Really I will. I just want that shower…"

"And a week's worth of sleep in your own bed. I know…" he chuckled. "But you have my number if you change your mind or want company."

She nodded and walked with him to the door. "I have it on speed dial at least six different ways…"

"And you're sure you'll be okay?" He anxiously looked down in her eyes.

"I'll be fine," Jordan answered with more self-assurance than she felt. This was the first night in a year that she wouldn't have to worry about someone recognizing her and hauling her to jail. "And thanks…for everything, Drew. The time you spent on the case…helping me keep my apartment….everything. I'll never be able to repay you."

"Oh yeah? We'll see about that, Cavanaugh." His anxiety melted into a smile. One that Jordan was finding turned her insides to mush. "Call me if you need me. In the meantime, sleep. I made sure there were clean sheets on the bed the last time I was here."

"I will." She shut the door behind him and surveyed her Pearle Street apartment. Haley had been as good as his word. When Jordan found herself on the run, one of the first things she did was liquidate all of her accounts into cash with his help. Then she turned her limited financial holdings over to Drew for him to pay rent on her apartment. She wanted somewhere familiar to return to when she came back to Boston. The times that Drew came to Boston to talk to Woody, he'd stay at her place…checking things out…making sure everything was ready for her return.

But for all her gratitude for everything he had done, and the way that events had turned out for her, Jordan couldn't repress the shiver that was making its way up her spine. The reality of her situation hit home hard one more time. It was over. She was through running and hiding…

Her life could get back to normal.

She stripped off her clothes in the middle of the living room and made her way to her shower, letting the hot water begin to wash off that fugitive feeling….the feel that she was being watched…that she had to keep moving…the smell of the threat of a jail cell…it all had to go….release itself from her.

Jordan felt the tears long before they surfaced along with the sobs. The past caught up with her with one fell swoop as she finally acknowledged what this past year had done to her…robbed her of people she loved and that loved her. It had taken away 365 or so days of her life…days she could never get back.

And had given her emotional wounds she feared would never heal. The tension of wondering if she was going to make a wrong move…get caught….be punished for something she didn't do. She leaned against the wall of the shower and slowly slid down the side of it, letting her tears take over.

She wasn't sure how long she cried, but when the hot water ran out and the cold began to seep through her pores she stood up, turned the water off, and dried herself. She felt spent but oddly reborn. She faced up to fears and realized they had changed her.

Probably forever.

Jordan scrambled through several dresser drawers until she found her duckie and soapsuds pajamas. Donning them, she crawled under the covers of her bed and sank into a deep sleep.

She was home. It was over. Her life could get back to normal…

But she wasn't the same person she was a year go. She had changed. She was different. Fear, a feeling the old Jordan Cavanaugh pushed aside, was a very real presence in her life.

She'd push it down, hold it at bay…but the demon would always be there, just beneath the surface, ready to rear its ugly head.

Jordan just prayed someone would be there to help her slay the dragon it happened.

* * *

She had been gone a year. A year in which everyone's life had moved on as usual. Work. Play. Sleep.

Everyone's life except hers. For a year she had lived looking over her shoulder, being shuttled from town to town when people got too suspicious or started asking too many questions. And despite Haley's and Woody's assertions that her life could now get back to normal, Jordan had serious doubts that it would right away. If ever.

She worked. Garret had started her out slowly, letting her get adjusted to her routine and her internal clock back to functioning in a normal pattern. She slept. When she got back to Boston, Jordan wasn't sure if she would ever catch up on her sleep.

But mostly she tried very hard to rid herself of the constant feeling of being watched and the fear that she was going to slip up and do something wrong. "You need a vacation. A long one," Drew told her one night over the phone.

"I can't take one now. I just got back," she softly countered.

"You need something, Jordan. Something to get rid of this feeling you have. It's not good. You should be kicking back now, relaxing. Getting over the whole thing. Not living like this."

"I know. It will get better."

Drew hesitated for a minute. "Have you talked to Stiles about what you're feeling….how you're feeling?"

Jordan blew out a sigh. Part of her intensely disliked the short, balding psychiatrist, but part of her realized the man had rescued her from a quagmire of emotional distress before. "I have."

"And….."

"He says my feelings are normal and will pass with time. Just deal with them as they come up."

"Oh." Drew hesitated for another minute. The year that Jordan had been on the run had brought the two polar opposite people closer. Drew had always been a by-the-book feebee. Certain crimes had certain formulas and seldom departed from the equation.

Jordan, however….Cavanaugh was a different story. She was more apt to be all over the map until she found where the evidence was taking her. For Jordan, each crime…each criminal was individual and personal. No two were alike.

A quality Drew had found grated on his nerves for awhile. At least until he had gotten to know Jordan better and understand her. And that knowledge he had garnered about her was what made him so damned worried about her now. This…these feelings….were not like her at all. "Jo," he added softly, "do you need me to come back to Boston for a while…or would you like to come to DC for a few weeks? You know Macy will let you have the time off."

"DC? Oh man, Drew…I don't know." Jordan swallowed hard. It was tempting. Leave your problems in Boston and just forget about them for a while.

Or simply not come back.

Drew could and would find her a job there….Jordan did know that.

But the fear she was dealing with would still be a part of what she was …who she was. No. Until she could shake this _feeling_ she couldn't go anywhere because no matter where she went, she couldn't function.

"Come on, Jordan. It'd be fun," Drew replied, coaxingly.

Drawing a deep breath, Jordan shook her head. "As much as I'd love to, I can't. I need to stay here and deal with this…get over it. And I can't if I'm running away from it."

"I understand," Drew answered. "Just…if you feel the need to run, Jo…do me a favor?"

"Call you?"

"No…no…Don't do that."

"Then what?"

"Just run to me."


	7. Let Me Jog Your Memory

**Chapter Seven**

**Let Me Jog Your Memory**

It was that place in the early morning… the place right between asleep and awake when Woody sensed that things weren't right. He sighed and shifted restlessly on his pillow, glancing over to make sure that he didn't wake Lu. _More than sense,_ he finally told himself, admitting the truth. _I know…_

He knew that things weren't what they needed to be in his career. He had let people and events sidetrack him. He was still a good cop, and had a file full of commendations to back that up. But he had lost his focus somewhere around the time when he and Lu found the body floating in the river that Jordan declared a homicide – an act that sent her running out of Boston with an FBI agent in tow and sent Woody's world into a tailspin.

They had argued after that. A lot. He and Lu. As the evidence mounted, Lu was sure that Jordan had shot Pollack.

And Woody had been just as sure she didn't. Officially, he took himself off the case. With him and Lu having opposing views, coupled with his previous relationship with Jordan, he had no other choice.

Unofficially, he had met with Haley and charted a course to help bring her back.

Lu suspected as much. She had to have. The rift between them that had begun on the stakeout in the junkyard grew a little wider and harder to cross. Finally she had told Woody that they should "leave work at work…and at home, work on each other."

He had tried. He really had. But when he was holding Lu, it was _her_ he worried about the most. Was she safe? Was she eating? Was she warm? Did she miss home?

Did somehow, through this tangled muddle of their lives, did she by chance…_did she miss him?_

Despite Haley's reassurances that Jordan was fine, Woody had worried. And that had fed the rift, and that had made the chasm between himself and Lu grow wider. He felt it, and was sure that she did, too. He didn't touch her that much anymore. The bed, which at one time was the completely level playing field in their lives, became a means to put more distance between them…with Lu hugging her side and Woody hugging his.

He couldn't clearly remember the last time they made love. He thought it was after he came home from a bar, in the wee hours of the morning, his memories a fog of cigarette smoke and BoSox scores; his mind willing, but his body not responding like he wanted. They blamed it on the alcohol.

But in that place…in that fragile place between awake and asleep … Woody knew that wasn't the reason. His concern for Jordan more than clouded his mind, it had possessed him then, like it did now.

And just like malaria, there was no cure.

* * *

For Jordan, there was no fragile place of reckoning. She got up, went to the morgue, worked out, and went home. On the rare days she felt like she could deal with crowds, she would run before work instead of going to the gym.

But she couldn't shake that niggling feeling that she needed to be looking over her shoulder the entire time…that someone, somewhere was waiting for her to slip up and make one mistake. Then the cuffs would be slapped on her and she'd be taken away. Drew had told her it would take some time to get over that feeling of paranoia. He hadn't lied.

And his offer for her to come to DC remained tantalizingly in front of her. Start over. New town. Where no one but Drew really knew her. Where she didn't have a past, but could possibly have a future.

But Boston was home. Even with all its hurts and bad memories, Boston was home.

So she put on her game face and greeted each day with a smile pinned to the corners of her lips. If everyone else believed she was okay and doing just peachy, maybe the fiction would become fact. Maybe one day she'd wake up and her year on the run would just be like a bad dream…a vision that faded away with the light of a new day.

Except the new day was a long time coming.

No one knew, or even suspected just how fragile she was. She hid it well. So well that some days she almost believed it herself.

* * *

Woody felt the moisture growing between his shoulder blades as his feet pounded the running trail. Despite the legendary cold Boston winters, as soon as summer made herself known in Massachusetts, the temperatures would rise quickly.

And this summer was no exception. He mentally cursed himself for not running earlier in the day when it was cooler. He had planned to. He had planned to roll out of bed at six and be on the running trail by 6:30 at the latest. But he got waylaid.

By Lu.

He wished he could say it was because they had made passionate love for an hour before she turned him loose. Except that wasn't the case. They had argued. Again. First she didn't like the fact that he was getting up so early and running, leaving her in the bed alone…one more time. Then he left the cap off the damn tube of toothpaste.

Then she found his boxers on the floor. That was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. Their argument wasn't about the running, the toothpaste cap, or even his boxers. It was about _them_. Over the past year they had argued about nearly everything…from what brand of coffee to buy or the fact that he didn't like her leaving a spare box of tampons at his place. But the fights really weren't about any of that.

It all boiled down to the fact that Jordan was back. And while she had made no effort to re-establish herself in anyway in his life, it was the fact that she was back and his emotional antennae was now sensitive to every move she made that was putting a wrinkle in his relationship with Lu.

And Lu was woman enough to know it. Even though Jordan's name never passed his lips, even though she was keeping more than a respectful distance away from Woody and Lu, even though she rarely worked with him any longer, _Lu knew_. She knew that he worried about Jordan and that probably, somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, Woody pondered the "what-might-have-beens" about himself and the medical examiner.

That's what their argument had been about for sixty long, deafening minutes this morning. A non-existent love triangle between himself, Jordan, and Lu.

Woody took a deep breath and picked up his pace a little more. Over a year ago, he had developed a new jogging route…one that covered the distance between his place and Lu's apartment. It had been a great course…one that was new and far away from the old routes that he and Jordan used to run together through the park near the ocean. A new route that would allow him to spend his cool down time in a most satisfactory manner at her place. But now with things going to hell in a handbag between him and Lu, Woody found himself back at that park by the bay…the one where he and Jordan used to run.

And a familiar figure several yards in front of him. "Jordan!"

She didn't stop. But with the ear buds from her iPod in her ears, Woody doubted she could hear him. "Jordan!" he yelled out again.

She never slowed down. If anything it appeared she picked up her pace and soon sprinted quickly and easily out of Woody's range. "Jordan?"

The last time her name came out in a whisper as he stopped and watched her disappear, weaving in and out among the crowd.

* * *

He returned to the park the next day, just a little earlier than the day before. He kept telling himself he was there to run off the frustration of yet another relationship he had fucked up and that was now dying a slow death.

And if he told himself that long and loud enough, he was sure he would believe it. He kept rolling that over in his mind as his eyes stayed peeled for _her_. He had no guarantee that she would be at the park again today, but a part of him needed to find out. He ran the route twice, but Jordan didn't appear. Hot, tired, and feeling partly defeated, he jogged to the parking lot and climbed in his Chevelle. He drove back to his apartment with the windows down and the Kinks in the CD player.

He returned to the bayside park the next morning. Same time. This time, his luck held out. When he rounded the first curve in the jogging trail, there she was. Pony tail bouncing as she ran, eyes focused ahead, iPod buds plugged in her ears.

Totally oblivious to him or his shouts to her. Once again, it seemed she increased her speed and sprinted several lengths ahead of him with no effort. _As concentrated as she is on her running, maybe she's training for a race…_he thought, after failing to catch up with her. That could very well be … Boston held several marathons and various other runs during the summer. Jordan could have signed up for one and was now in serious training.

And if she had, she obviously had no time for anything else.

When for the fourth day in a row, Woody found himself back at the park, stopping in the middle of the track to catch his breath, he knew he was fighting a loosing battle. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was chasing her again. This time literally instead of figuratively. And if Lu found out, there would be hell to pay.

But it was senseless to avoid the attraction. Other than the brief encounters they had immediately after Jordan had returned to Boston, Woody had no real contact with Jordan other than the couple of times she had been the answering ME to one of his cases. And then Jordan was strictly professional. Woody frowned. She was even more than that. Distant. Yeah, distant. That was how he would describe her. _Distant – like her body was in Boston, but her mind was somewhere else_. His conscious prodded him painfully. Maybe her mind was still on Drew. Maybe during her time away, Jordan had become more attached to the FBI profiler than Woody realized. Maybe Jordan was pining for him...maybe…maybe….Woody shook his head. He didn't want to deal with maybes. He needed to know the truth. He needed to talk to Jordan. However, on this run…done at the same time he had seen her before, she wasn't there.

Which made no sense. If she was training for a race, it was important she run everyday. And preferably early morning. And from the length and intensity of her runs, the only thing that made sense in Woody's mind was that Jordan was training for some kind of marathon.

Until he did catch sight of her at the end of the trail. Sitting on a bench, her sweaty shirt and hair plastered to her, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands.

* * *

Running was helping. A little at least. It helped her clear her head and focus on what she had to do during the day ahead. It allowed her to have fresh air and sunshine…and be out there with people, even if she didn't really want any contact.

Now if she could just shake the feeling that she was being watched. She had felt it every time she had run through this park.

But then again, she felt that nearly wherever she went…that eerie feeling that someone's eyes were on her. She first chalked it up to her general paranoia. Lately, however, she just simply contributed the feeling to all the ghosts of her past that haunted this park. Coming here as a child with her mother and father…then just with her father. Playing here with Kim as a child.

Running with Woody. Remember how desperately she had wanted to tell him that day that she loved him… she had no intentions of going out on the blind date that Lily had set her up with…that she would never be able to say to any other man what her heart kept whispering to her about him.

But like everything else in her life, she had fucked that up, too. _I don't guess you should tell the man who holds your heart that you love him and need him more than air when he's being wheeled into life and death surgery_, she grimly thought, fighting back the tears that were now mingling with the sweat in her eyes.

As far as Jordan could tell, she had really dicked up everything in her life…her relationship with her father…and the one she had with her co-workers now wasn't exactly sterling. Trying to catch back up on the rhythm of their lives after a year was difficult and a part of Jordan wondered if she even really wanted to.She was having too much trouble putting her present in perspective with a past she still felt like was following her, ready to bite her in the ass at anytime – JD's death and the myriad of hardships it had caused so many people.

And then there was Woody….and Lu. She had known about them before she had fled Boston. Why she thought any of that might change while she was gone, she had no clue.

But broken hearts seldom made sense.

Sighing, she wiped the sweat and tears from her eyes and got up, thinking that if she left now, she would have time to shower _and_ shave her legs before going to the morgue to start her work day.

"Hey…."

Woody's voice went throughher like a lightning bolt.


	8. Time and Space

**Chapter Eight**

**Time and Space**

"I tell you, she's going to run."

"Come on, Lily. Jordan's just being Jordan. You know that," Bug replied, eyeing her over the table in the morgue break room. "You know how difficult she can be sometimes."

"I don't think so. Not this time, Bug. She's going to run. And for all the wrong reasons."

"Look, other than Dr. Macy, I've known and worked with Jordan longer than any else here. Her moods change with the wind. Every time she's gone on one of her little 'adventures' and then come home, she's been like this…moody, withdrawn. Just give her a little time and space and soon Jordan will be Jordan again," Bug continued, rinsing out his coffee cup at the sink.

"But this time it wasn't just a 'little adventure'." This time she didn't run because she wanted to…because things here were just too much for her to handle. She ran because she had to…she was forced out of Boston because she was being accused of a crime she didn't commit. Then she just about had to prove her own innocence in order to come home. If it hadn't been for Haley…" Lily let her voice trail off. From the looks on Bug's and Nigel's face, she could tell her pleas were falling on deaf ears.

"Yeah, yeah. We know, love. If it hadn't been for Drew researching leads and then feeding them to Woodrow, heaven knows where the girl would be now. We know that. What Bug is saying is that Jordan probably just needs a little time and space to herself…to get adjusted to being back home…and probably to have time to mourn JD's death," Nigel added.

"That's right, Lily. Even though things weren't working out between the two of them, Jordan was bound to still have feelings for him…and being on the run for a year, she probably hasn't had the time to really grieve his loss. So it's natural that it is catching up with her now. You know that, you're a grief counselor," Bug said.

"I know…I know…" Lily replied, rubbing the side of her head with her hand. "But even grief, with all its definitions, doesn't fit the vibe I'm picking up from her. Jordan's going to run…mark my words….she's going to run. She's going to leave Boston and we won't see her again."

Nigel gave her a long look and an equally long sigh. "What makes you so sure, Lils?"

She paused then. It wasn't one thing she could put her finger on…other than for the last four years Jordan had been her best friend. And like all best friends and most women, Lily had a powerful sense of intuition. And her intuition was telling her that Jordan wasn't settling down now that she was home. Something else was driving her…not exactly pushing her away from her friends, but making her simply _uninterested_ in resuming her old life.

And that's what Lily couldn't understand. She had witnessed Jordan trying to push everyone out of her life and Lily knew how to deal with that – just like Bug and Nigel had said – give her time and space to deal with her inner demons and soon the old Jordan would bounce back into place.

But this time…this time, it was different. Jordan was different. For a year, she had been a fugitive…assuming so many different identities that Lily feared Jordan may not remember who she really was.

Or what was important.

And God only knew what living with the anxiety of having handcuffs slapped on you and dragged back to Boston did to her mental state. Not to mention the fear of what could happen if an over zealous bounty hunter found her.

Lily shook her head. No. Jordan didn't need time or space. Jordan needed someone to help her face her fears. If that didn't happen, Jordan would be leaving Boston in her rearview mirror.

And Lily really couldn't blame her.

* * *

"Where's Jordan?" Garret asked, although it sounded more like a growl than a question.

"She's out on a call with Seely," Lily replied, following the chief ME as he headed down the hall towards the men's locker room.

"She's supposed to be helping me in autopsy one."

"She was the next one up. She said to tell you she'd be back in about an hour and then she'd be right on it."

"What about Bug or Nigel?"

"They took lunch."

"Oh." Garret stopped in front of the doors to the men's room. "Is there something else, Lily, or do you intend on following me in here?" He inclined his head to the "Men" sign on the door.

"Yes…No…"

"Yes, you're going to follow me inside or yes, there is something else?"

"Yes, there is something else, actually," Lily responded, hugging her clipboard tighter to her chest.

"What is it?" Garret asked, an impatient snap in his voice. "I've got three autopsies this afternoon…"

"It's about Jordan," she interrupted in a firm voice.

"What about Jordan?"

"Do…do you think she's acting normal since she got back, Garret?"

"Jordan? Normal? Now there's an oxymoron if I ever heard one." He began to push the door to the men's room open to slip inside.

"She's going to run, Garret." Her voice was louder and firmer this time.

Garret paused and leaned against the wall beside the door. "Did she tell you that?"

Lily shook her head. "No. I just think….sense…that she will. Has she talked to you any since she came home?"

Garret shook his head. "Not a whole lot. Just a little here and there. The places she hid out at. The wigs she had to wear. God, she hated them…."

Lily nodded. "That's just it."

"What's just it…I'm not following…."

"She hasn't talked to anybody."

"Did you ever assume that maybe she didn't need to?"

Lily sighed in exasperation. "Come on, Garret. This is Jordan we're talking about. For a year she was forced out of her comfort zone….forced to run from a crime she didn't commit, but all of Boston was ready to pin on her. Forced to assume a dozen different identities and forced to run. Not run because she wanted to, but because she _had_ to. Forced to live in fear. That's bound to have some kind of effect on her."

"Has she mentioned any of this to you?"

"No…I just ….I mean…she's different now."

Garret sighed this time. "Maybe she had a little time to grow up…maybe Nigel is right and she is finally grieving JD's death. Maybe all she really does need is time and space, Lily. Maybe this is her way of asking us to give that to her."

"I don't think so…"

Garret pushed the door of the men's room open to go in. "All I know is that since she's returned she has been a little quieter, but she's also been a model employee. I think she's adjusting in her own way…a little at the time. Just give her … space, Lily. This isn't a crusade to right some wrong here. This is Jordan. And after a few weeks, she'll be just fine." Garret flashed a brief smile at the grief counselor and disappeared into the men's locker room.

Lily rolled her eyes to the ceiling and counted to ten. _Men…why are they all such assholes when you need them to be understanding…_Jordan needed someone to talk to. Someone she could trust. Someone who had helped her in the past and that she knew she could depend on. Jordan might tell such a person what her fears were. Lily knew Jordan wouldn't tell her for fear the grief counselor may feel bound to call in Howard Stiles and Lily knew Jordan wasn't ready to talk to him.

No…it had to be a friend…someone she felt like she could trust. It had to be…it had to be….Lily's eye's widened as that person rounded the corner.

Woody.


	9. Damn Fool

**Chapter Nine**

**Damn Fool**

"Woody…Woody….have you got a minute?"

Woody slowed down at the sound of Lily's voice. Turning, he smiled at the pretty grief counselor who was tearing after him like hell itself was at her heels. "Sure, Lily. What's up?"

Lily paused for a moment and leaned against the wall. The decision that Woody might be the person that Jordan would open up to was made quickly.

She had given no thought about how she would approach him.

Figuring the direct approach was best, Lily dove right in. "Have you talked to Jordan lately?"

"I talked to her yesterday for a few minutes, about the Williams case she caught last week. Why?"

"No. I mean have you _talked_ to her…since she got back home." The earnestness in Lily's eyes told Woody that the grief counselor wasn't talking about him and Jordan discussing a case.

"No, Lily. Not really. I'm not high on Jordan's friends list any longer…" Woody replied softly, blowing out a sigh at the same time.

"Oh." Woody saw Lily's shoulders sag noticeably. "Why? What's wrong…is anything wrong with her?" Panic laced his voice.

"No…yes…I'm not sure. I've just got a feeling, Woody….a hunch…."

"About Jordan?"

Lily nodded. "I think she's going to run again, Woody."

The comment was said softly, but with firm conviction. And Woody knew Lily wouldn't make such a statement if she didn't believe it was true. "What makes you think that?"

"It's not one thing…it's a lot of things….the way she's acting…pulling inside herself…not really getting involved in our lives again. Keeping to herself. And her eyes…"

"Have that haunted look," Woody concluded.

Lily nodded. "Yeah. Like she's still afraid that this whole thing with Pollack's murder isn't really behind her…"

"Like she's being watched."

Another nod. "I think Boston's too crowded for her….too many memories of the past and she's not really talking to anyone about the way she feels…"

"And you think she might run from these feelings?"

"I do. But even if she runs, what she feels won't disappear. Running won't make it go away. I'm scared for her, Woody."

"I know…I am, too."

"So…I was wondering…" Lily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. With Lu now in the picture, she wasn't sure where anything was now with Woody and Jordan. However, the element of trust was there….or Jordan would have never told Haley to ferry the information he dug up about the baseball gambling to Woody. "I was wondering if you could talk to her…really _talk_ to her and see what was going on inside her head."

Dumbfounded, Woody could only stare at her for a moment. "I don't know, Lily. I don't think Jordan would open up to me about something like that."

"But she trusts you, Woody. Despite everything that's happen, she _trusts_ you, or she wouldn't have tagged you and Haley up together on Pollack's case."

Woody leaned against the other wall and hung his head for a moment, his mind going back to the conversation he had with Jordan the other day when he found her sitting on the bench at the park. She had nearly bolted after he greeted her, startled beyond reason, he thought.

"_Are you training for a race or something?" he had asked._

"_No…why?"_

"_This is the third time I've seen you running this trail this week…and you've run like the devil himself is chasing you. I've never seen you so determined."_

_She had swallowed hard. "It was you who was following me, wasn't it? Wasn't it?" Her voice had grown louder with the second question._

_Holding his hand in surrender in front of him, he had back up a few paces. "I wasn't following you…well, maybe I was…I just hadn't seen you lately and after everything you've been through, I was kind of worried about you, Jo."_

_She had sighed then…deflated like a balloon was more like it. "I'm sorry, Woody. I shouldn't have yelled…it's just hard…" If he wasn't mistaken, her voice had broken._

_Sitting down beside her, he had to find out. "What's hard?"_

"_Readjusting…getting over the feeling that I'm being watched…or followed…or that I'm going to slip up one time and Walcott's going to be around some corner waiting to cuff me and send me back to jail."_

_He had nearly laughed at her description of Walcott then, until he caught a glimpse of her eyes. There was no amusement in them…just a cold, hard fear that sent Woody's heart racing in concern. "Jordan," he began, reaching out and taking her hand, "it's over. You're not a suspect. Arrests have been made. You don't have any reason to feel this way. It's over," he repeated._

"_Maybe for you. Maybe for Walcott. Maybe for everyone else… but not me."_

_He had been confused. "What…why…"_

"_Have you ever been at a place in your life where you feel you've screwed everything up so badly that nothing can ever be right again?"_

_He had wanted to nod and tell her yes…more times than once…like right now, but Jordan had rushed ahead. "Because that's what I feel like," she continued. "All I see now are my own screw ups…how I've dicked nearly everything in my life up…There's nothing in front of me but the past, Woody – with all my mistakes … and all the hardships and fallouts because of them…because of me."_

"_You mean JD's murder?"_

_She didn't respond, just briefly tightened her hold on his hand. And he hadn't known exactly how to answer her except to say, "Jordan, I know you feel that way now, but give it time…"_

_She had grown quiet and still for a moment before she pulled her hand out of his. "Yeah. I guess you're right. Give it time…I'll be seeing you, Woody."_

Then she had jogged off.

And he had let her.

_Damn fool,_ he cursed himself. But Lily's suspicions, coupled with that conversation was convincing. He dipped his head one more time before looking the grief counselor in the face. "I don't know if she'll talk to me, Lily. But I'll give it a try…all she can do is clam up and push me away."

Lily flashed him her thousand-watt smile. "Good. And thanks."

Woody nodded. "I'll find the right time and I'll talk to her. Then I'll let you know how it goes."

"She'll talk to you. I know she will." She turned to go back into her office.

"I hope so." Woody watched Lily's retreating figure and sighed again. Lily had no idea what she had just asked him to do. Not only did he believe that Jordan would brush off any effort he made to get inside her head, but when the fallout came from that one conversation, another woman would be brushing him off, too.

Because when Lu found out what he was about to do, there would be hell to pay.


	10. Alone Again

**Chapter Ten**

**Alone Again**

Woody sighed and threw his keys on the counter, watching them hit the surface, bounce off, and fall to the ground. _Reality all the way around…my life is totally hit and miss right now._ He walked to the refrigerator, drew out a Guinness, uncapped it, and downed half of it in one gulp.

_Alone…again_.

For the third month in a row.

Lu was gone. Not that _that_ was any big surprise. And not that _that_ wasn't all his fault either, Woody thought grimly as he worked on the second half of his beer, shedding his clothes in the process and heading for the shower. It was all his fault and she had let him know it in no uncertain terms.

Well…not all his fault. Jordan had something to do with it, too, although bless the girl, she was totally ignorant of the fact…because she was totally innocent.

After his conversation with Lily, he had tried re-establishing communication with Jordan…to try to understand where the medical examiner was at emotionally. But if Jordan's like creed had been "Don't ask, don't tell," before, it was now, "You can ask all you want, but I ain't telling nothing."

She was as withdrawn and quiet as Lily had described. He had joked, cajoled, even bribed, and she wouldn't say anything substantial about her state of mind. It had taken weeks to get anything out of her. After countless "working" dinners and morning Starbucks runs, the most concrete thing she had slipped up and said was that there was a job offer in DC and she was seriously thinking about taking it.

He had nearly dropped his double caramel macchiato with six sugars over that one. "You're not serious?"

"I am," she replied softly, a far away look in her eyes.

"You miss him, don't you?" he responded, trying desperately to keep any edge of jealousy out of his voice.

"Drew?"

"Yeah, Haley."

She nodded then. "I do. He was great when...when…I was on the run."

"I could have helped you more than I did then, Jor. All you had to do was ask." He knew jealousy was written all over that statement.

And if she heard it, she didn't respond to it. She simply shook her head sadly. "And jeopardize your job? I wouldn't do that to you. And you did a lot…listening to Haley…following up…We …I couldn't have done it without you."

"Still…so you're thinking about going to DC to be with him?" The green-eyed monster was all over that one, too.

She had taken a long sip of her espresso-laden latte and shook her head again. "Not to be with him, but work for him. The FBI has offered me a job."

"The bureau? Wow…that's….."

"Not Boston. And I think that's what I need…" her soft voice had trailed off as her cell phone rang. It had been Garret. She was needed in the field. With a quick good-bye she was gone, leaving him to stew in her news and his regrets.

And stew he did. For hours Then days. Until it became apparent to Lu that something else had gone wrong between them. When a request came through from the FBI to the Boston PD for background check on one Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh, Lu had quickly put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"You're afraid she's going to leave, aren't you?" Lu had confronted Wood one evening after work when he was more withdrawn from her than usual.

"Jordan?"

"Yeah, Jordan. The FBI wants a background check on her and you've stonewalled it for two days. You're not only afraid she's going to leave, you don't want her to."

Silence. Woody had met her accusation with silence.

"Do you?"

"No," he had finally replied quietly. "I don't. In Jordan's present state of mind, I'm not sure she knows what she wants or needs. I think she still requires time to adjust to being here…to not being watched and on the run. To get over being a fugitive. If she takes that job in DC right now, she's just running again. Those same feelings will follow her."

"How do you know what she's feeling?" Anger laced the edges of her voice.

"People talk, Lu. And that morgue is like a sieve. There are no secrets among the living or the dead there."

"So you're still concerned about her…even after you put your job on the line talking with Haley…you're still involved with _her._" She spat the last word out.

"If being concerned about someone who's been your friend since you've moved to Boston is wrong…the yes, I am involved. There. He had admitted where his heart was. The proverbial ton of bricks lifted from his shoulders.

And Lu's accusations had flown. Along with her clothes and the spare box of tampons…into a suitcase and she was gone. Leaving nothing but the ringing in his ears of a dozen false accusations and the slamming of a door.

That had been three months ago. They hadn't spoken since. Didn't have a need to. Lu transferred to the twenty-third precinct. Woody grunted as he rinsed the soap off his body and got out of the shower. Lu was gone.

But Jordan was still in Boston. He had continued to stonewall her background check. He had called Haley and voiced his concerns. Haley had been aware of them before the call. "But maybe she needs to get out of Boston to face them," he told Woody.

"If she takes this job, it's just another form of running. Boston's where this shit started. Boston is wherethis shitneeds to end Then if she still doesn't want to stay here after all the dust has settled, I'll fax the her background check to you, kiss her on the head, and put her on the plane myself."

So Haley had given him a month to work on Jordan…to try to get her to face her fears and deal with reality. A month. Thirty days.

That was a week ago. He had talked, joked, cajoled again…but nothing else was coming out of Jordan. Lily was worried. If possible, he was worried more. Still contemplating the next strategy to get Jordan to talk, he grew mildly aggravated at a buzzing from across the room. His cell phone. He was on call. Phoning back to the precinct to check in, he had frowned. Dead teenaged girl under the overpass in South Boston. Probably a runaway.

The only possible bright side to this bleak scenario -- if there was such a thing in these situations – was that Jordan was the answering ME.


	11. Breakthrough

**Chapter Eleven**

**Breakthrough**

There are approximately 236.8 cases of teenage runaways annually in Boston. How they came up with the .8 thing Woody didn't know. He had never seen .8 of a person anywhere.

But 236.8. That figure was solid. It was real. And it was a fact that a percentage of them…approximately five percent … if the truth be told … ended up on a slab in the state morgue. That figure is 11.84.

Woody had never seen .84 of a person, either.

But he had dealt with enough runaways to know that the majority either return home themselves or are returned home courtesy of the Boston PD. Most of the tragic, other 11.84 are generally have their bodies claimed by parents or other relatives.

The few that weren't…he didn't like to think about. However, years on the force…five now…had pushed him. He had seen more than his fair share of dead teens and even more of the ones whose parents didn't care. He didn't like it…he didn't accept it…his way of dealing with the horrific situation was to close the case as quickly as possible and move on.

But with this last case…the one that Jordan had been the answering ME on…it wasn't happening. The victim was, as best as could be determined, a female runaway, approximately 17 years of age who had died by strangulation. That was all that could be determined, other than the fact she was brunette, brown eyed, and had an appendectomy scar. She carried no ID and despite the fact that the Boston PD had flooded all the other departments in the state with her picture, no positive identification had been made.

Woody would have been happy to cold case it. Shelve it with the other unsolved crimes and pull the folder out occasionally to see if he could put a few more clues together about this young Jane Doe. He didn't like to think that there was a young woman, once vibrant and perhaps loved, lying unclaimed on a cold slab in the morgue.

But Jordan wouldn't let him. She was after him to solve the case, bring this teenager some justice. Of course, Woody anticipated she would be like that on this case, but the unsolved murder of the unnamed, unclaimed runaway was driving her like nothing else he had ever seen. She called him numerous times a day the first week they were on the case together.

By the time the second week rolled around, Woody had been assigned three other cases, all with more leads. All more imperative to solve and a hell of a lot easier. Now when Jordan called him about the Jane Doe, he didn't brush her off, he just told her it would have to wait a few days until he had more time.

Until the third time he did it. "Jordan…Walcott's after me to finish the Pershing case first…it's not me, it's…." He heard what he could have sworn was a sob then, and a click of the phone as the line went dead. She had hung up on him. Sighing, he waded though the Pershing folder until there was a knock at his office door. "Come in."

"What do you mean this girl is going to have to wait until the Pershing case is through?" In all her righteous indignation, there was Jordan. An avenging angel…maybe.

Angry as hell, was more like it.

"Walcott said…"

"I don't give a damn about what Walcott said. This girl needs some closure. This girl needs some justice."

"And she'll get it… this is gonna take some time, Jor."

"Then why aren't you working on it? Why aren't there other people working on it? Why is no one doing anything for this girl?"

"We are…all we can. But you have to admit, we don't have a lot to work on. And not all cases are solved."

"And some cases have been solved with less." The high tenor to her voice told him that Jordan was on the verge of tears. "So why is no one out there looking for her? Doesn't she matter? Is a whole year going to have to go by before…" Her voice did break then. And her eyes went to the floor as Woody watched her struggle for composure.

Ice. It was as if cold ice had been thrown in his face. Woody knew what this was about then. Coming from around his desk, he shut the door to his office and locked it. Standing in front of her, he gently lifted her chin with one hand, while sliding the other around her waist. "This isn't about the Jane Doe, is it, Jordan?"

She was tempted to lie. God help her, she was tempted to look back in those blue eyes and bluff her way through this whole situation that had upset her wobbling world even more. How could she tell him that every time she looked at that girl's body in the drawer, she saw herself. What could have happened to her while she was on the run. And the fear, that with the dozens of IDs that she had carried, that no one would even know to claim her.

No one would really know who she was.

That she was loved…and loved in return. Sometimes too much. "No…" The reply came out in a broken whisper.

"I didn't think so." Woody pulled her over to the couch and then down beside him. Holding both of her hands in his, he gently squeezed them. "So tell me then…what is this righteous rampage all about?"

"Her…She…that could be me."

"But for the grace of God it could be any of us…"

"No…think, Woody. It could be me. For a year, I was running and hiding….just like this girl may have been. She could have been hiding from abusive parents…an abusive boyfriend…"

"The law…"

Jordan nodded. "And she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and it got her killed. It could have happened to me…while I was on the run…the wrong place…said the wrong thing….did the wrong thing…an over zealous bounty hunter….Woody…."

Woody tilted her face up to his again and scrutinized it carefully. There were dark circles and her cheekbones were much more prominent than they were two weeks ago. She wasn't sleeping or eating. This case was wearing her out and she was wearing it…it was possessing her. "But you had Haley and me looking out for you."

"And hundreds of miles away. What would have happened to me if I hadn't pushed the case as hard as I did?"

"It would have been solved." The policeman in him had to say it.

"When? When I was old and gray and didn't care anymore? After I had spent too many years in jail to care about getting back out?"

"No, Jordan…."

"Could you guarantee that, Detective?"

"But Jordan, it _is_ over. The criminals have been locked away. You've been exonerated. JD has his justice. It's over."

"Is it? Is it really? Then if it's over, why do I feel like someone is out there just waiting for me…waiting to slap the cuffs on me and haul my ass to jail and then forget about me?"

"That's not going to happen…"

"But why do I feel this way? Why did it take a whole year? Doesn't anyone care what I went through? What I feel….doesn't anyone…anyone…" the tears were so thick and heavy in her voice that Woody had to strain to make out the words. "Why? Why did it take so long, Woody? A year. A whole year…that I didn't know…anything. I missed everyone so much…I missed you….Woody…"

He pulled her into his arms then, holding her close. If he had been looking for a break through into Jordan's soul, he would have never guess it would have come from a Jane Doe runaway. But her next statement took him by surprise…not so much for what was said, but the way she said it. Timid. Weak.

"Did you miss me?"


	12. The Way Back Home

**Chapter Twelve**

**The Way Back Home**

"This is Hoyt," Woody managed to get out without growling too much. After Jordan's timid "Did you miss me?" and he was holding her close, his damn cell phone went off.

And Jordan's right behind his.

That could only mean one thing. Homicide. Reluctantly she had pulled out of his arms and stood up "Jordan…" he called after her. "We need to finish this conversation."

"I know," she replied, quietly, her customary smile now firmly pinned back into place. "But not now. Duty calls. See you at the scene…" Her hand was on the door knob.

"Do you want to ride together?"

She shook her head. Their discussion about the runaway and the parallels between the Jane Doe and herself had unnerved her. Her past was now not only staring her in the face, but also his. And she wasn't so sure she was comfortable with that.

She wasn't comfortable with herself…much less with baring her soul to anyone else. With another smile and a wave, she was out the door and down the hall, before Woody could stop her.

At the crime scene, she was all professional ME. Her mask was back in place…no crack in her veneer. Vainly he tried to see something behind those brown eyes that would indicated somehow the vulnerability she had shown in his office less than an hour ago.

But he struck out. It was as if the conversation had never taken place. Puzzled, he waited … and watched until the opportunity presented itself to end the conversation they had started in his office.

* * *

The end started at the beginning of another case. In her office, instead of his. Deep in conversation about the homicide they had both answered a week before, neither heard Lily knock on Jordan's door. The grief counselor had to open the door and poke her head in. "Jordan…Woody…."

"Yeah, Lily?" Jordan asked. "Is something wrong?"

Lily shook her head. "No… it's just that … the Jane Doe runaway? The one who was strangled?"

Jordan nodded.

"I think her parents are here to claim her remains."

Woody heard Jordan's swift intake of breath and he closed the file he had been combing through, his attention split between what Lily was saying and watching Jordan's reaction.

"They're in the conference room and want to talk to you. I was wondering if…"

"Sure Lily. No problem," Jordan softly replied standing and moving toward the door, never noting that Woody was right behind her. She took the papers out of Lily's hands and was in the conference room before Woody could catch up with her. "Mr. and Mrs. Johnson…I'm Dr. Cavanaugh…."

The puzzle pieces fit together in a manner of minutes. Shelia, the runaway, was Mr. and Mrs. Johnson's daughter. The Johnson's lived in Michigan. After a series of typical family fights and arguments, Shelia ran away. The Johnsons had been chasing down leads and tips for weeks, but it wasn't until recently their tiny town in Michigan had been informed of the possible link between the Jane Doe found in Boston and their daughter. They had brought Shelia's hairbrush and toothbrush along for possible DNA matches to complete the identification.

"That might take a few days, but I'll rush it," Jordan promised, after a tentative ID had been made through pictures.

"That's okay," Mr. Johnson replied, sighing and sitting back in the chair. "After this long, a few days isn't that much longer."

Jordan nodded. "I'll get back with you as soon as Dr. Townsend has the results," she concluded, standing to go. But she had to know. For her own sanity, she had to know… "Mr. Johnson…Mrs. Johnson…all this time Shelia was gone…and you looked for her…did you ever think you wouldn't find her?"

"I honestly didn't know," Mr. Johnson said hesitantly. "A small town like ours doesn't have the resources a big city does to look for runaways. But a big city doesn't have the time or patience to actively look for them. I knew Shelia could slip through the cracks…especially as her eighteenth birthday was coming up. Then she would be considered an adult…but we never stopped looking for her, Dr. Cavanaugh. Never. There wasn't a day that went by that either me or my wife…usually both of us…were on the phone…on the computer…in the police department….looking for our daughter. We loved her…and knew that in her own way, she loved us. Losing her was never an option. You never really lose someone you love. The heart…has a way of keeping them with you."

Gulping, Jordan thanked the Johnson's for their time and quickly crossed the hall into her own office. Unthinking, she shut the door behind her, nearly on Woody. When he opened the door to come in himself, he found her standing in front of her window, her hands covering her face. Quietly, he went and stood behind her, his hands resting gently on her shoulders. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

She nodded. "I have the answers now," she replied.

"To your Jane Doe. You should be proud of yourself, Jordan. You're about the only one who didn't give up on finding out who she was and where she belonged."

"Yeah."

A simple answer, but underneath her soft reply, her shoulders were still stiff with tension. Shelia's case may have been resolved, but Woody had a feeling that the emotions the case had stirred up in Jordan weren't quite ready for closure. "Are you ready to let it go?"

"The case?"

"No. The year you spent on the run. Are you ready to try to put that behind you?"

To Woody's surprise, Jordan turned to him then, seeking the comfort she needed in his arms. Startled, but welcoming her warmth, he readily tightened his arms around her. "You never did answer my question," she said, her voice muffled where her head was on his shoulder.

"Did I miss you? Of course I did Jordan." He pulled her away from him to let her look in his eyes and see the truth there. "I missed you and worried about you constantly. I hate it took a year to get you back home and if I could somehow regain that 365 days for you, I'd do it in a heartbeat, but I can't. All I can do is promise to try to work double time this year to make it up to you….if you'll let me."

"Lu?" There was a wealth of hurt and questions behind that name.

"It's over…been over…"

Jordan nodded and looked down for a moment, carefully forming the upcoming sentences in her head before she said them. "I know now what I was really afraid of…after I got back to Boston."

"That Walcott was hiding behind a tree somewhere with the Boston PD, waiting to arrest you and take you to jail?"

They both chuckled for a moment at the vision of the model-esque DA lurking behind a tree with the Keystone Cops, waiting to cuff Jordan. "No…well….that was it for a while, but it wasn't my main fear," she said, sobering for a moment.

"Then what? Tell me…" He gently kissed her forehead.

"You."

"Me?" Woody's quick intake of breath told Jordan he had no idea where she was going with this.

"You. That once I got back home…and things were settled…you'd push me out of your life again. That you'd tell me to go away….that you'd wasted enough time and energy on me and that you and Lu…"

She never got to finish her sentence. His lips claimed hers in a searing kiss that drove the rest of any fears she had out her office window. "No. No way," he said huskily when he finally released her lips, pulling her close against him again. "I hoped, once you were home, that we could at least be friends again. My heart hoped for so much more. I didn't know, though….there were so many loose ends…" He rested his forehead against hers. "But losing you – not an option. Forgetting you – I never wanted to. Pushing you out of my life again, telling you to go away – I never will again."

"Then it really is like Mr. Johnson said, isn't it?" she murmured against his lips.

"What's that?" he asked, momentarily distracted by the feel of her soft mouth against his.

"You never really lose someone you love. The heart…has a way of keeping them with you." Jordan pulled back then and looked deep into his eyes and saw…the future. A future that would be filled with love and happiness….fights and making up. Children.

Her way back home.


End file.
